Mistborn #02 The Well of Ascension

on the floor."
    Vin looked up. "And?"
    "The purpose of a writing desk is, well, writing."
    "But my papers are all over here."
    "Papers can be moved, I believe. If they prove too heavy, you could always burn pewter to give yourself more strength."
    Vin eyed his amused face as she inked the nib of her pen. Well, at least he's displaying something other than his dislike of me . "The floor is more comfortable."
    "If you say so, Mistress, I will believe it to be true."
    She paused, trying to determine if he was still mocking her or not. Blasted dog's face , she thought. Too hard to read .
    With a sigh, she leaned down and began to write out the first word. She had to make each line precisely so that the ink didn't smudge, and she had to pause often to sound out words and find the right letters. She'd barely written a couple of sentences before a knock came at her door. She looked up with a frown. Who was bothering her?
    "Come in," she called.
    She heard a door open in the other room, and Elend's voice called out. "Vin?"
    "In here," she said, turning back to her writing. "Why did you knock?"
    "Well, you might have been changing," he said, entering.
    "So?" Vin asked.
    Elend chuckled. "Two years, and privacy is still a strange concept to you."
    Vin looked up. "Well, I did—"
    For just the briefest flash of a moment, she thought he was someone else. Her instincts kicked in before her brain, and she reflexively dropped the pen, jumping up and flaring pewter.
    Then she stopped.
    "That much of a change, eh?" Elend asked, holding out his arms so she could get a better look at his costume.
    Vin put a hand to her chest, so shocked that she stepped right on one of her stacks. It was Elend, but it wasn't. The brilliant white costume, with its sharp lines and firm figure, looked so different from his normal loose jacket and trousers. He seemed more commanding. More regal.
    "You cut your hair," she said, walking around him slowly, studying the costume.
    "Tindwyl's idea," he said. "What do you think?"
    "Less for people to grab on to in a fight," Vin said.
    Elend smiled. "Is that all you think about?"
    "No," Vin said absently, reaching up to tug his cape. It came free easily, and she nodded approvingly. Mistcloaks were the same; Elend wouldn't have to worry about someone grabbing his cape in a fight.
    She stepped back, arms folded. "Does this mean I can cut my hair, too?"
    Elend paused just briefly. "You're always free to do what you want, Vin. But, I kind of think it's pretty longer."
    It stays, then .
    "Anyway," Elend said. "You approve?"
    "Definitely," Vin said. "You look like a king." Though, she suspected a part of her would miss the tangle-haired, disheveled Elend. There had been something. . .endearing about that mixture of earnest competence and distracted inattention.
    "Good," Elend said. "Because I think we're going to need the advantage. A messenger just. . ." He trailed off, looking over her stacks of paper. "Vin? Were you doing research ?"
    Vin flushed. "I was just looking through the logbook, trying to find references to the Deepness."
    "You were!" Elend stepped forward excitedly. To her chagrin, he quickly located the paper with her fledgling notes on it. He held the paper up, then looked over at her. "Did you write this?"
    "Yes," she said.
    "Your penmanship is beautiful," he said, sounding a bit surprised. "Why didn't you tell me you could write like this?"
    "Didn't you say something about a messenger?"
    Elend put the sheet back down, looking oddly like a proud parent. "Right. A messenger from my father's army has arrived. I'm making him wait for a bit—it didn't seem wise to appear too eager. But, we should probably go meet with him."
    Vin nodded, waving to OreSeur. The kandra rose and padded to her side, and the three of them left her quarters.
    That was one nice thing about books and notes. They could always wait for another time.

    They found the messenger waiting in the third-floor Venture atrium. Vin and Elend walked in, and she stopped immediately.
    It was him . The Watcher.
    Elend stepped forward to meet the man, and Vin grabbed his arm. "Wait," she hissed quietly.
    Elend turned, confused.
    If that man has atium , Vin thought with a stab of panic, Elend is dead. We're all dead .
    The Watcher stood quietly. He didn't look much like a messenger or courier. He wore all black, even a pair of black gloves. He wore trousers and a silken shirt, with no cloak or cape. She remembered that face. It was him.
    But . . .she